


Cemetery Scene

by undun



Series: Losing and Gaining [7]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-09
Updated: 2013-02-09
Packaged: 2017-11-28 16:42:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/676601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/undun/pseuds/undun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mycroft takes care of his family and a monster is put to rest.</p><p>Takes place in between chapter 7 and chapter 8 of 'Gaining, Slowly'.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cemetery Scene

**Author's Note:**

> This ficlet is another missing scene from the 'Losing and Gaining' series. I reread 'Gaining, Slowly' last night and realised I had missed a crucial detail (and we really had to see it and have the opportunity to see Mycroft completely redeemed, at least in our eyes).
> 
> If you are familiar with this series then you will know that past child abuse is alluded to.

Mycroft Holmes took a bracing breath before walking through the doors of the 'working end' of the morgue. The temperature had been cool in the reception area - inside it was edging towards frigid.  
  
"Follow me please, sir. This one's in long-term storage." The morgue attendant proceeded to another door and walked into what essentially looked like a large refrigerator. There was a wall of stainless steel drawers which the attendant stood in front of as he checked the number written on his clipboard and unlatched a door in the second row. The attendant pulled the handle to reveal the shrouded body within.  
  
Mycroft deliberately stopped inhaling as the body's head was uncovered by the attendant. Frosted air drifted up from the open door. He studied the face revealed and pulled a small photograph from the pocket of his charcoal pin-striped suit jacket. Mycroft continued to hold his breath as he studied the man in the photograph then leveled a long stare at the body laid out before him. He finally raised his eyes, nodded briskly at the attendant and took a step back. He drew in a long, level breath.  
  
"If you'd follow me, sir, there are some forms..."  
  
Mycroft walked after the man, his graceful tread emitted only the slightest noise, his heartbeat sounded unfeasibly loud inside his head. "Of course," he murmured.  
  
***  
  
Mycroft gazed at the polished wooden casket upon the stand. He studied the roses arranged artfully over the closed lid. He'd requested the thorns be left untrimmed; something that had earned him a swift glance from Anthea, not quite a question in her eyes. The organ music swelled and filled the the inside of the church, finally dying off and leaving the air empty. The minister gave a bible reading fit for the occasion - Mycroft paid no attention, eyes down at his mobile phone (hidden by the front row pew), skimming news bulletins from various departments and operatives. The silence that followed the end of the reading alerted him to the end of the ceremony. The minister was looking quizzically at Mycroft. Mycroft nodded and the minister beckoned the pall-bearers forward.  
  
Mycroft did not know them. He turned to watch their progress as they exited the church holding the handsome coffin on their shoulders. Anthea stood up from where she had been sitting in the back row. There was no one else in the church.  
  
This was no place for Mummy. And certainly Sherlock should be kept from witnessing any respect being paid to the remains of their father. He would deem it obscene. Mycroft had always been the one to ensure things were done  _properly_.  
  
Their father had been a monster, but he was a  _Holmes_.  
  
Mycroft raised an eyebrow at Anthea as she fell into step beside him, following the progress of the coffin to the burial plot. "I asked that you remain in the car."  
  
His assistant slipped her phone into her handbag and smiled blandly up at him. "Yes, sir, you did."  
  
Mycroft snorted very softly. "Risky," he commented without any bite.  
  
"Hm."  
  
Mycroft held in a smile. This was no place for smiling.  
  
***  
  
It was late when Mycroft finally climbed out of his town car, briefcase clasped and umbrella hooked over his arm. He waved the driver off and walked up the short path to his front door. He sighed softly as he unlocked the door and deactivated the alarm and surveillance cameras. It was as he turned to close his door that he noticed his silent shadow standing motionless just inside the threshold.  
  
"Yes?" he queried, puzzled by her presence and spending less than a second wondering if he had overlooked a detail of his recent meeting with the Foreign Secretary. He hadn't.  
  
"You aren't busy tonight, sir," she stated, not a question.  
  
Mycroft frowned slightly, going over his schedule in his head quickly. "No, I believe I've cleared my desk for the moment. A rare event, indeed." His lips quirked and he walked to the foyer table to lay down his brief case and prop his umbrella in a large faux elephant's foot (gauche, even kitsch, but a present given by a friend from university). "What is it?" he asked turning to face her as she followed him.  
  
"Would you like... company?" she asked with atypical hesitation.  
  
Mycroft held his breath for two beats. "Ye-es," he answered on a sigh. "And you, my dear, are off the clock."  
  
"That I am, sir," she confirmed with a small smile.  
  
"Mycroft," he corrected.  
  
Her smile crept up to her eyes.  
  
***


End file.
